


Priorities

by sabby1



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Animal Death, F/M, Gen, Post-Episode 1x13; Companion Piece, Prompt Fill, The 100 Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1980117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabby1/pseuds/sabby1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia. She's injured. She's with the Grounder. Lincoln. What the hell was he thinking? Right. Battle going on, drop ship about to fry everyone around. Lincoln was her best chance to make it out alive. Bellamy has to find her. Fast. Before they get too far ahead. But first, he has to get back to camp to stock up on supplies, grab a weapon and check on the others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Priorities

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read as a companion piece and continuation to 'On the Other Side' but works just as well as a stand-alone. It also happens to work for Simply-Aly's prompt on the 100 Ficathon asking for 'Lincoln/Octavia, Bellamy, Finn; Rescue Mission'. I hope you enjoy, and constructive criticism is always welcome.

The birds screeching in the canopy drown out the hum in his ears. The red hue behind his closed eyelids tells him it's daylight even before he cracks his eyes open. The steady throb of his pulse pounds like hammer strokes against his temples as he sits up. Everything hurts. Finn is passed out next to him, face down in the dirt. They're in a small clearing not too far from camp. 

“Wake up.” Bellamy's voice is sore. He kicks Finn's leg. 

The memories come back quickly but disjointedly. Enemy scouts got them on their way out. Raven shot, dying from internal bleeding. Preparing for battle, setting land mines and digging fox holes. Saving Jasper from Murphy. Clarke's brilliant plan to fire the rockets and grill the Grounders. Nearly being hanged to death on a sling made from seat belts. Holding the line when the enemy started coming. A guy with a sword attacking him. Finn rushing to the rescue. 

Finn isn't moving.

Bellamy sucks in a breath to yell at him. It burns like glass shards in his throat and makes him cough violently. His chest hurts more than anything else. He might have broken a rib.

“Wake up!” He kicks Finn's leg again and shoves his shoulder hard. 

A loud groan lets Bellamy know that the other boy isn't dead. It takes Finn longer to turn on his back than it took Bellamy to sit up. Wuss. He looks like crap but he looks unhurt. A little charred, maybe. It's not like he took an arrow to the leg. 

Octavia. She's injured. She's with the Grounder. Lincoln. What the hell was he thinking? Right. Battle going on, drop ship about to fry everyone around. Lincoln was her best chance to make it out alive. Bellamy has to find her. Fast. Before they get too far ahead. But first, he has to get back to camp to stock up on supplies, grab a weapon and check on the others, . 

“Get up.” He pushes to his feet and the world starts to spin. A waive of nausea hits and he feels like he's going to throw up. He won't throw up in front of Finn. Deep breaths and a couple slow, deliberate gulps. It's all good. He can do this. “We gotta go.” 

“Clarke,” Finn rasps out. 

The first intelligible word out of the space-walker's mouth and it's the name of the princess. Go figure. Raven would roll her eyes and storm off in a huff. If she's not dead by now. Bellamy hopes she's not. She's the best mechanic they've got; smart, resourceful. a creative thinker. She's also a bombshell in bed.

“I'm sure she's fine.” He braces his hands on his knees and waits for Finn to get his sorry ass up. “Come on, we have to get back to camp.”

It takes them fifteen minutes to limp back to camp. Bellamy swears they ran this stretch in under a minute last night. He can smell it before he sees it. The ash swirling through the breeze makes him suppress a cough while the stench of burned plastic and rubber makes them both turn their heads. There is nothing left of their settlement. Grey dust and the creepy husks of burned skeletons cover the ground where they used to get drunk and tell stories around the campfire. There is an eerie silence around them, even the sound of bird screeching is gone. The hatch to the drop ship gapes open like a toothless maw. 

“Clarke! Raven!” To his credit, Finn's voice is not much louder than a rough whisper as he breaks into a run straight toward the hatch.

Bellamy drops to a crouch and immediately checks for Grounders in the underbrush. It looks like they're alone. His stomach sinks. They're completely alone. There is no sign that the remaining eighty-two kids of the hundred were ever here. When Finn steps back out of the drop ship, Bellamy's worst fear is confirmed. 

“It's completely empty,” Finn says hoarsely. “Everything's gone.” He looks shell shocked. 

Bellamy's brows furrow at the odd choice of words. He stands up and quickly jogs past Finn into the ship. His mouth drops open with his first good look around. Finn wasn't kidding. Everything that wasn't physically attached to the ship itself has been removed from the lower level. Blankets and cots, Clarke's medical supplies and equipment, they are all gone. The only thing that remains, aside from the jump seats, is a large bloodstain on the floor. Bellamy swallows the bile in his throat and hurries up the ladder to the next level to find the same terrifying picture. Their food and water stock has been emptied but that isn't the worst. Their weapons are gone. Not just the guns, but the knives, spears, and axes as well. Even the empty bullet casings and ammunition canisters have been taken. The electronic scrap and tools from Raven's workbench have been cleaned off as well. There's just a big hole in the wall where Murphy blew his way to freedom. Bellamy's stomach turns to ice. 

He walks back out in a daze and sinks down heavily on the hatch next to Finn. “It's all gone.”

“Yeah,” Finn says monotonously. 

“There's not even a single blanket left in there.” Bellamy can feel the ice in his stomach melt into liquid fire. “I can't believe she did this!” He clenches his hands into fists as he stares into the woods. The perfect princess had packed up and left, leaving them with absolutely nothing. 

Finn's head turns so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. “Of course not!” His face twists up in disgust. “She wouldn't do that!”

Bellamy's fury makes him blind to rational thought. “Oh, really? Not even if she thought we were both dead?”

“Never,” Finn says with conviction. “Think, Bellamy. Just stop being pissed off for a second and think!” 

Bellamy purses his lips, biting his tongue to keep from barking out another smart remark as he stares at the ground in front of him. Even outside everything has been picked clean. Clarke Griffin may be a hard-nosed, pig-headed, know-it-all bitch, but the girl is also an incorrigible optimist and, with very few exceptions, an insufferable goodie-two-shoes. There is no way she would have ordered the kids to take everything. He can still hear her yelling 'just take what you can carry' in her bossiest tone. She wouldn't have bothered with the empty ammunition boxes. She definitely would have left behind a crate with blankets, clothes, probably even a supply of food and meds, just in case any of their people outside the drop ship survived. Bellamy's mouth relaxes but his brows furrow deeply as he comes to the inevitable conclusion. 

“Something's wrong,” he says quietly. 

Finn nods. “Yeah.” He looks like someone kicked him in the gut. 

Bellamy closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath. He immediately regrets it when his chest burns like somebody thrust a knife into his side. Definitely a broken rib. He grits his teeth against the pain and gets up. “Time to go.” 

“Go where?” Despite the question, Finn gets up as well. “We have no idea what direction they went.”

Bellamy shrugs, even though he doesn't feel the least bit nonchalant about the situation. “Doesn't matter. We need to get out of here. The Grounders could come back to check for survivors and we don't want them to find us.” He avoids Finn's gaze, pauses for a moment as if he's just thinking about it. “We should go check Lincoln's cave first. Find some weapons and supplies.” 

With any luck, Octavia and Lincoln are still there. Bellamy knows he's not the best tracker and convincing Finn to come along will be nearly impossible, now that his two favorite girls are missing. 

Finn looks like he's going to argue, but then he runs his hands through his hair, huffs out a breath and starts walking. “Fine. But then we have to figure out what happened to the others.” 

They walk in silence, both of them keeping an eye out for Grounders. Bellamy doesn't remember ever feeling so naked without a weapon. He lost his axe in the skirmish even before he handed over Octavia to Lincoln. He's not the praying type, but he keeps catching himself repeating 'please be there' like a mantra in his head. 

When they get to the cave they find it abandoned. 

“Dammit!” Bellamy lashes out and slams his fist into the nearest wall. He jerks it back with a loud yelp the second it connects. “Dammit,” he says again, hissing at his busted knuckles. 

“What the hell is your problem?” Finn shouts as he grabs his wrist and pulls it closer to inspect the damage in the dim orange glow of the torchlight. “You're lucky you didn't break it.” He drops Bellamy's hand like something foul. “Dumbass.” 

“They're not here.” Bellamy grits the words out between clenched teeth. 

Finn rolls his eyes. “Of course not. Did you really expect Clarke would lead them to a cave not even big enough to hold a quarter of our group?”

“Not them,” Bellamy says without thinking. “Octavia and Lincoln.”

“What?” The annoyance on Finn's face is drowned out by confusion. “What are you-” The confusion is replaced with dawning understanding, followed by cold, hard anger. “So that's what you were really after. Not supplies, not even weapons. You were just running after your kid sister! I don't believe you, you smarmy, selfish son of a b-”

Bellamy doesn't let him finish. He grabs Finn by the shirt and slams him up against the wall, injuries be damned. “She's all I've got!” he roars. “She's my responsibility, my life, and she's all I've got!” 

Finn sputters and coughs, but then regains control. He pushes Bellamy off him a lot easier than he should be able to and hauls him across the small space. When Bellamy's back hits the wall it knocks the wind out of him and jars his broken rib, making him see stars. 

“What about Clarke?” Finn shouts furiously. “What about Raven, and Jasper, and Monty? What about the others?” He's breathing hard, bracing his weight against the wall behind him. “You wanted to be their leader. That means their your responsibility, too!”

Bellamy closes his eyes and turns his head, trying not to let the words affect him. He has to find his sister. He has to make sure Octavia is alright. 

“Screw you,” Finn says and pushes off the wall. He starts to rummage around the cave. 

It takes a moment before Bellamy feels like he can move without throwing up. He pushes off the wall as well and starts to go through Lincoln's stuff on the other side of the small cave. They each find something to carry supplies and start to pack up quickly and quietly. 

Bellamy finds a short hand-axe among pieces of scrap metal and leather. The curved blade looks dull, like it hasn't been sharpened in ages, but it'll have to do. He also grabs an empty water skin, a small tin pot, a flint-stone and about a couple days worth of dried meat. The makeshift bed nest has been stripped. Lincoln didn't leave behind any blankets or clothes. Bellamy takes one last look around to make sure he's grabbed everything that might come in handy. His hand reaches for a bundle of long leather strings when he hears Finn's shuffling footsteps behind him. He quickly grabs the strings and follows Finn out of the cave. 

Once they step into the afternoon sunlight, Bellamy turns east and starts walking. It takes him only a few steps to realize Finn isn't following him. When he turns around, the other boy has already covered a few feet in the opposite direction.

Bellamy's frown deepens when he realizes Finn is headed somewhere north of their camp. “Where do you think you're going?”

“Camp,” comes the terse reply over Finn's shoulder.

“Really?” Bellamy says mockingly. “Well then you might wanna turn around. 'Cause our camp is that way.” 

“Not our camp.” Finn keeps walking. 

Bellamy's brows fly up to his hairline. “And what other camp is there?” He's afraid he already knows the answer. 

“Grounders.” 

“Dammit,” he hisses under his breath and jogs to catch up with the idiot. “Are you insane?” He grabs Finn's arm to stop him.

“Shove off!” Finn rears back and jerks his arm out of Bellamy's grip so hard it sends both of them staggering backwards. “What do you care?” His usually doe-eyed stare has a murderous glint to it.

Bellamy steps back with both hands raised. He's not looking for a physical fight. Not when he's already got a broken rib. “Look, I get it-”

“Like hell you do!” Finn takes a step forward and gets right in his face. “You made it perfectly clear that all you care about is Octavia. So, as far as I'm concerned, it's none of your business where I'm going or what I do when I get there.” 

Bellamy rolls his eyes skyward. “And what are you gonna do?” The question is purely rhetorical. “Run in there with guns blazing?” He leans forward as his voice slowly rises to a shout. “Oh, that's right, we don't have any guns!”

“I don't care!” Finn screams right back. “It's Clarke, and our people, and I'm going to find them.” He stabs his hand in the direction he was going to emphasize his point. “And if you're not going to help me, then shove off, and leave me alone!” If there are any Grounders within a three mile radius, they definitely heard that. 

And just like that, Bellamy loses his cool. “You're going to get yourself killed!” He swings hard and his fist connects with Finn's face, dropping the idiot to the ground like a sack of wet clothes. When his busted knuckles flare up in protest, Bellamy winces and cradles his hand protectively against his chest. He lowers his voice to a quiet drone. “And then no-one is going to save your precious Clarke, because I'm sure not going to do it by myself.” 

Finn glares up at him from the ground, spits out an impressive glob of blood and snot, and wipes his mouth with the back of one hand. “Because you're a coward.” The accusation is reflected in the bitter look on his expressive face. 

Bellamy winces again, pretending it's because of his injured hand. “No.” He flexes his fingers a couple of times, keeping a wary eye on Finn. “Because dying in a fight you can't win isn't brave, it's stupid.” He throws Finn's own words back in his face, watching as they hit home.

It doesn't look like the other boy is going to attack him after all. Good. “Look, if you want to save her, or anyone else, we're going to need weapons. And back up.” He takes a breath, not too deep, and exhales. “Like it or not, Lincoln's our best bet. He knows more about the Grounders than we do. Maybe he knows a way to help us.” 

Finn's whole face changes when his eyes light up with some emotion Bellamy can't decipher. He mutters something under his breath that Bellamy can only half make out. 

“Yeah.” Bellamy crosses his arms tightly in front of his chest. The move oddly makes him feel better. “You sure are crazy, trying to run unarmed into a camp full of Grounders.” 

Finn glares at him as he pulls himself up off the ground and gets back on his feet. “Not lunatic, 'Luna'.” He makes a fruitless attempt to brush the dirt off his pants. “When Lincoln told us about the tribe out east he said there was a woman there, named Luna, who could help us.” 

“Of course.” Bellamy's eyes narrow as his hackles raise again. 

Finn shakes his head. “Don't start.” He adjusts the bag over his shoulder and starts walking, heading east this time.

“Start what?” Bellamy clips out the words, trying to keep calm as he falls into step with Finn.

The younger boy only raises his brows and cocks his head to the side like that explains everything.

“Whatever,” Bellamy grumbles under his breath and picks up the pace. “If we're lucky, we'll catch up with them before nightfall.” There is no way in hell he is walking a hundred and twenty miles to the Eastern Sea. Not if he doesn't absolutely have to. 

They cover about ten miles before sunset, but there is no sign of Octavia and Lincoln on their trek. Bellamy grudgingly agrees to set up camp, knowing that they can't risk walking through unfamiliar territory in the pitch black of night. Finn builds a small fire while Bellamy gets water from the creek they've been following for the past hour. Both of them sit down on the same side of the fire, up-wind of where the smoke is blowing. 

Finn is the first to break the silence. “No blankets or extra clothes. This is going to suck.” 

Bellamy shrugs indifferently. “Yeah, well, there's nothing we can do about it. So, suck it up.” As if to mock him, the wind picks up and causes a full body shiver, making his skin crawl with goosebumps.

“Uh-huh.” Finn rolls his eyes and starts to turn sideways. “Turn around.” 

Bellamy's eyes narrow until he sees Finn turn his back toward him. “Oh.” He gets it.

Finn clears his throat uncomfortably. “The climate controls on Mecha Station-” 

“Used to fritz out a lot?” Bellamy finishes the sentence with a smirk. He turns around and shuffles backwards. “Yeah, same on Factory Station.” 

He stops once he feels Finn's back against his own. With one side turned toward the fire, and the warmth of another body against his back, he can feel the goosebumps disappear. They sit in silence, staring into opposite sides of the forest around them. 

Bellamy speaks up first this time. “I'll take first watch.” 

Finn's voice is drowsy. “Sure, wake me in a couple hours.” After a few moments his head lolls against Bellamy's shoulder. “Do you think they're alright?” he asks drowsily.

Bellamy knows Finn's thinking of Clarke and the others, not Octavia and Lincoln. His answer is the same regardless. “They have to be.” 

They break camp early the next morning and keep heading east. Thanks to the creek they have more than enough water, but the lack of food supplies forces them to stop mid-day to hunt. 

Bellamy doesn't like it. “We're never going to catch up with them if we have to stop for squirrels every day.” 

Finn rolls his eyes and finishes setting the small trap they made out of leather strings and branches. “We're never going to catch up to them if we starve, either.” 

Bellamy's mouth curls into a sneer as he glares at Finn. “I wish I had a gun, or even a spear. At least we could hunt for bigger game.” 

Finn gets up and moves a few feet away, following the small animal tracks they discovered to set another trap. “Yeah, well, if wishes were horses...” He trails off as he kneels down in the dirt. 

Bellamy watches the other boy for another second before he loses his patience. “This is bullshit. I'm gonna see if I can find something to make a spear.” 

“Go for it.” Finn calls after him. “But stay close. We don't know if there's more Grounders out there, or worse, Reapers.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, mother.” The facetious comment earns him a withering glare. 

Bellamy does take care not to drift further than a few hundred feet from where he left Finn, even though he would never admit to that. The din of bird calls and rustling leaves turns into white noise as he focuses on finding the perfect branch for his spear. He already has the scrap metal for the tip and the leather strips to attach it. All he needs is a long, straight branch that is strong enough to hold up under the weight of bigger game, but flexible enough to handle well. 

He finds the perfect specimen in a long straight root that sticks out of dark soil about halfway down a shallow slope. Bellamy pulls the axe from his belt and gets down on all fours to start climbing. He manages to find a decent foot hold once he's close and grabs the root with one hand. Its girth fits comfortably inside his fist. A happy grin darts across his face as he swings the axe and aims for the base of the root just above his hand. 

The moment the axe hits the root, something huge barrels into him from the side. Bellamy barely has time to scream. The root splits from the tree and he's flying backwards down the slope, losing the hold on his axe but with the branch still in his fist. Then there's a rough jolt and the root gets a whole lot heavier and much more difficult to hold on to. 

All he sees is whiskers and fangs above him, snapping at his face. The wild cat jerks around the makeshift spear impaling it. It claws at his arms as Bellamy holds on for dear life, trying to keep the beast at bay. He's still screaming and the fangs are getting closer. Bellamy closes his eyes, pushes harder, twists the spear, wills the damn cat to just die already. 

Something crashes into them with enough force to rip the spear from his hands. 

The weight is gone and everything is quiet. Bellamy doesn't open his eyes because he's not sure if he's alive or not. Breathing hurts even more than before and both his arms are throbbing. Definitely alive then. He hears heavy breathing next to him and the sound of something metallic hitting the ground. He'll have to bite the bullet eventually, so he turns his head and opens his eyes. 

Finn is sitting on the ground a couple feet away from him with his knees drawn up, bracing his weight on his hands behind him. Stretched out next to Finn is the carcass of a mountain lion with a fatal gash through its neck. The animal is at least seven feet long and looks heavy as sin. A large, bloody hunting knife sticks in the ground between them. Finn Collins saved his life. Again. 

“That's-” Bellamy coughs and clears his throat. “That's the second time you saved my ass.” 

“Yeah.” Finn shrugs and wipes his nose with the back of his hand, smearing blood all over his face. “Don't make it a habit.” 

Bellamy can't help it. He chuckles. Even though it hurts, he can't stop laughing at the idea that the guy who hates his guts ended up saving his life not once but twice in the span of two days. He kind of hopes he never has to return the favor. 

It takes almost three days to prepare the meat from the mountain lion, costing them valuable time and increasing the distance between him and Octavia. Bellamy keeps replaying the last time he saw her in his mind. Even if Lincoln has to carry her, the man is uncannily strong and could probably still cover at least 15 miles a day. Bellamy knows that his best chance to catch up with them depends entirely on which one of the two is more bullheaded, Lincoln or Octavia. She would want to walk on her own two legs, refusing to be carried like a damsel in distress. But the injury in her thigh would slow them down significantly. Bellamy only feels a tiny bit of remorse for hoping that Lincoln's determination to keep her safe is no match for his little sister's infamous stubbornness.

A week later they're a lot closer to the Eastern Sea, but still no closer to finding the two. There are no signs, not a single track on the ground to show they even came through the same way. Finn is sure it's because Lincoln is covering their tracks. Bellamy isn't even sure they're walking in the right direction until the sun starts to set behind their backs every night. At least his chest is starting to feel better. 

On the morning of their ninth day of travel they finally come across human tracks. And it isn't Finn who finds them first. 

Bellamy grins wildly, staring at the huge footprints in the damp ground. “Finally!”

He can't help but look around, hoping to see Lincoln and Octavia somewhere up ahead. Logically, he knows they could still be hours ahead of them, but now he has a definite sign that they came through here. 

Finn crouches next to the footprints, his brows furrowed over a skeptic frown. “I don't know, man. This doesn't look right.” He measures the size of the print with his fingers. “Why is there only one set?” 

Bellamy rolls his eyes at the paranoia. But the news is too good for anything to spoil his mood. “Obviously, Lincoln's still carrying her.” He laughs. “I didn't think it was actually possible for someone to be more bullheaded than Octavia.” 

Finn still doesn't look convinced. “They're too deep, even for the weight of two people.” He slides a finger across the indentation and follows it from the edge to the center. “Deeper in the middle.” He shakes his head. “I have a bad feeling about this.” 

Bellamy can't take it anymore. “You're just paranoid.” He jogs a few steps in the direction the prints are headed. Not seeing anything, he throws caution to the wind and brings his hands up around his mouth to amplify his voice. “Octavia! Lincoln! Octa-” 

Finn tackles him from behind in mid shout, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Finn ends up on top, one hand placed firmly over Bellamy's mouth as he glares down at him. 

Bellamy glares right back up at him, contemplating how best to murder the other boy just as soon as he can get his hands free from under Finn's surprisingly hefty weight. Then Finn shifts and manages to aggravate Bellamy’s broken rib in the process. Stars explode in Bellamy's vision and for a second he's not sure if he's going to puke into Finn's hand. It would serve the guy right. 

“Are you insane?!” Finn whispers harshly. “What if those are Grounder footprints? Do you really want to start another turf war?” 

Bellamy's heart sinks as reality rears its ugly head. Stupid. He's so damn stupid it's a miracle he's made it this long. It never even occurred to him that the prints could belong to anyone other than Lincoln and Octavia. And he knew better. He knew there was at least one other tribe out there beside the Grounders and Reapers. So damn stupid.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head in answer to Finn's question.

Finn lets him go and sits back on his butt, looking warily up into the trees. 

They're both quiet for a long moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When nothing happens, Bellamy sits up as well. After a few harsh coughs, he feels like he can breathe again. “Well, neither one of us got hit by a flying projectile, so I guess we got lucky.”

Finn's glare is unforgiving. “For now.” 

They get up and straighten out the stuff that got messed up in the scuffle. Neither of them says anything for a while as they continue heading east. 

Bellamy finally breaks the silence. “It could've been them.” 

Finn sucks in a breath and turns toward him with an angry glare. 

Bellamy isn't sure he wants to know what Finn sees on his face that makes the other boy avert his eyes again.

“It could've been,” Finn says with a shrug. 

A couple hours later they are still walking in silence. Bellamy is secretly glad that Finn lets him set the pace. They move as briskly as the terrain allows, following the ever widening river that will eventually lead them to the ocean. 

A shrill scream somewhere up ahead echoes through the trees, sending birds scattering in all directions. 

The blood freezes in Bellamy's veins. It's a girl's voice. He's not even sure it's Octavia, but he's already running. Somewhere behind him, Finn shouts something he can't hear. His mind is barely processing his surroundings and he almost hurls himself over the edge of a ravine before he comes to a sudden stop. Sand and dirt skitters over the edge and drops 20 feet into a dark green pond below. 

All Bellamy sees is long brown hair and skinny arms flailing in murky water. “Octavia!”

His sister is drowning and his world ends right here. He doesn't waste another second and hurls himself over the edge, head first. 

The moment he crashes into the icy water, it registers that he can't swim any more than she can. His boots suddenly weigh a ton and he's sinking like a stone. Panic sets in and he struggles blindly, arms and legs pushing everywhere. The water is too murky to see anything and probably full of monster snakes. His lungs are bursting from lack of oxygen and he has no control over the direction he is moving. It's like being floated; it has to be. Go figure. He got away with attempted murder on the ark, only to be floated anyway in a damn pond on Earth. 

Something snakes around him from behind and squeezes hard. Stars explode behind Bellamy's eyes as the last bit of air is pushed from his lungs. Vertigo makes him dizzy, his head feels lighter than the rest of his body and he can't help it, he sucks in a breath. Sweet, tangy air fills his lungs and he rips his eyes open to the sight of clear blue skies and puffy clouds. 

“Bellamy!” 

Octavia's voice is the sweetest thing he's ever heard. She's right there with him. He needs to save her. No idea how. He kicks his arms and legs, feeling useless. 

“Bellamy, stop! Please.” 

It's all his fault. “So, sorry. Can't.” He gets a mouthful of water, but he has to keep pushing, has to get them to shore. He struggles wildly and they both go under, water closing around them until suddenly they're above the surface again.

“Bell, stop!” Octavia sounds pissed. “Stop struggling. I've got you!” 

That makes no sense. If she's got him, who's got her? They can't swim. “Can't. Swim.” But someone can because when he stops kicking, they're still floating above the surface. 

“I can.” Octavia is using one arm to put him in a choke hold and Bellamy wonders when his little sister grew so strong. “He taught me, Bell.” Her voice is labored, but steady. “Lincoln taught me.” She spits out water and keeps pushing towards the shore. “It's okay.”

Bellamy feels like a complete tool as his little sister drags his sorry ass toward dry land. The moment he can feel solid ground under his feet he twists out of her hold and crawls the rest of the way until he can collapse on the rocks and dirt around the pond. Breathing still hurts. He knows they're both safe, but he grabs for Octavia's hand anyway. It feels like his heart finally starts to beat normal again when his fingers close over her smaller ones. 

“You're such an idiot, you know that?” She sounds exhausted but she's chuckling anyway and her other hand ruffles through his wet hair. 

“I see he's already found you.” A strange female voice approaches from behind them.

Bellamy sits up and immediately turns around to get a good look at the woman.

She's young, probably in her early twenties, with long, dark blonde hair braided close to her head in more than a dozen small braids. Her face is narrow and pointy, but the big smile on her lips makes her seem friendly. 

“It's okay, Bell.” Octavia says quietly as she gives his hand a squeeze. Then she raises her voice. “Brisa, meet my brother Bellamy.” She grins. “Bell, this is Brisa, the fastest scout of the Ocean tribe.” She leans in and squeezes his hand harder. “Be nice.” 

Some time later they are gathered around an enormous campfire in the waning daylight. They have fish and berries for dinner, and Bellamy is still trying to figure out how things got from A to B to here. 

Octavia is sitting close by, but she's wrapped in Lincoln's arms, a sight that Bellamy might never get used to. 

Finn is off to the side, talking animatedly to Brisa, out of Bellamy's earshot. It looks like he's already starting his 'save the hundred' campaign. 

When Lincoln gets up and steps away, Bellamy uses the opportunity to talk to his little sister in private. 

“So when did Lincoln have time to teach you how to swim?”

Octavia shrugs. “A couple days ago.” 

He can see the healing scar tissue on her leg, just below the hem of her shorts. “How is that possible? It took us days to get here.” 

She smiles bitterly. “The night of the battle, Lincoln stole a couple of horses from the Grounder camp while everyone was busy fighting. We've been here for a week.” She chews on her lip and fiddles with the food in her hands for a long moment.

Bellamy knows his sister, he can tell she feels guilty for leaving the battle. It's so obvious how much she cares about the hundred. Sometimes he wonders where she gets her big heart from. It's certainly not something she learned from him. “Listen, O, it's-”

“What happened to the others?” Her voice is sharp like broken glass. 

He looks away. “We don't know.” 

His eyes move to Finn who is still talking to Brisa, turning up the puppy dog charm that usually gets him what he wants with Clarke and Raven. It looks like it's starting to work on Brisa too. How come even the toughest girls are total suckers for that crap? Bellamy wrinkles his nose at the scene and looks back at Octavia. 

She's looking at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. 

He's not sure anything he can tell her will be good enough. “Finn and I got caught outside before the blast went off. By the time we got back to camp the next day, there was just a bunch of bones and ashes on the ground. No one was there, and everything that wasn't nailed down had been taken.” 

The lines on Octavia's face deepen as she shakes her head in confusion. “I don't understand.” 

“Mountain Men.” Lincoln's grave voice pulls both of them out of the moment.

Octavia's eyes widen as she takes the cup of water Lincoln offers her. “No, Lincoln, it can't be. What if-”

“If your friends are all gone, and there is nothing left but bones, then the Mountain Men came and took them.” Lincoln's face is sympathetic but his voice is stern as he sits back down behind Octavia. “I'm sorry, but your friends are dead.” 

“No.” Octavia's face crumples up before she buries it in Lincoln's chest with a sob, holding on to the furs at his shoulders for dear life as she lets out her fury and grief. 

Lincoln's hand brushes over her hair and he holds her tight, rocking her gently. He barely spares a glance for Bellamy before he bends his head to murmur soft spoken words of comfort into her hair. 

Bellamy watches helplessly. This is not how it's supposed to be. He is the one that his little sister should be coming to for comfort, not some beefy Grounder with a whole bunch of tattoos. He's already shifting to get up and go to her, when Octavia pulls back from Lincoln and sits up straight.

“No,” she says decisively, wiping away her tears. “No, I don't believe it.” Her face changes as she takes an incredible leap from grief to determination in less than a minute. 

It reminds him of Raven. He can't help the smile that twitches at the corner of his mouth. 

“Here's the thing,” she says matter-of-factly. “If the Mountain Men took them, then there have to be tracks. You can't just up and take 82 kids without leaving a trace. And if they're...dead...” Her voice hesitates over the word before she continues quickly, “Which I'm not saying that they are, because they're not, then that's 82 bodies to get rid of, totally not something you can do without a lot of hassle. So, for now, I think, they're alive, somewhere, and we have a chance to find them if we can get back to camp fast enough and still find some tracks.” She nods to herself, completely absorbed in the plan that is forming in her mind.

“Octavia,” Bellamy says hesitantly, not sure he wants to burst her bubble. It has been nine days since the hundred disappeared.

Lincoln sighs. “Tracks won't be necessary. There is only one place the Mountain Men would have taken them.” He sits up straighter behind Octavia and puts aside the cup that she dropped in her unexpected break-down. “I can show you. Do you still have the book that I gave you?” he asks quietly. 

Bellamy has to think for a moment before he remembers what Lincoln is talking about. “Yeah. I think so.” He turns his head and cranes his neck to see Finn still talking to Brisa. “Finn! Come here.” He waves Finn over.

Finn's puppy dog expression immediately turns into an impatient scowl. “What do you want?” 

Bellamy is pleased to see that the sudden change in demeanor does not go unnoticed by Brisa. He grins. “We need the book with the map that Lincoln gave you.” 

Finn's scowl clears up as quickly as it started. He grabs his satchel and trots over, already pulling out the worn little book. “Here.” He hands the book to Lincoln and sits down on the log behind him. 

Bellamy moves over and sits down on the other side of Lincoln and Octavia so he can get a look at the book as well. 

Lincoln quickly scans through the pages until he reaches the map. “Alright, you see this line here? That's the river. And your camp was about here.” He indicates a spot on the map. “The Mountain Men's lair, where they would have taken your friends, is at the base of this mountain.” He points to a cluster of concentric rings about an inch away from their camp on the map. 

“Wait a minute,” Bellamy says as he turns the book so he can see better. “If this is the Potomac, then that mountain would be-”

“Mount Weather.” Finn says and exhales a disbelieving laugh. “It's Mount Weather.” 

“Hah!” Octavia's sudden outburst gets everyone's attention. “I told you! Told you they're not dead.” She grabs the book from Lincoln's hands, sits up and chews on her bottom lip. “On horseback, we can make that trip in a couple of days.”

Finn's eyes light up as he jumps on the bandwagon. “We're gonna need weapons and a few experienced scouts.” 

There is no way Lincoln will agree to this. It's insane. They only just arrived here and they have no idea what kind of threat the Mountain Men pose. Just because they're located in Mount Weather does not automatically mean they are friendly to people from the Ark. Bellamy opens his mouth, ready to rein in his sister's enthusiasm. 

“Alright.” Lincoln sighs. “I will talk to Luna. If she agrees to lend us some horses, we can leave at first light.” 

Bellamy's jaw drops. He stares at Lincoln, wondering who replaced the stoic, unfeeling Grounder while nobody was looking.

“Okay.” Octavia nods then twists around in Lincoln's arms. “I'll talk to Brisa, maybe she'll come with us.” She gives Lincoln a quick peck on the lips, then gets up from the ground. 

“I'll go with you.” Finn almost falls out of his seat as he scrambles after Octavia to talk to the scout on the other side of the fire.

Bellamy is still in shock. “I'm surprised you're agreeing so easily.”

Lincoln smirks as he gets comfortable against the log behind him.“I'm learning to pick my battles with her.” He looks across the fire at Octavia and starts to smile. “If I didn't agree, she would have stolen the horses and gone without me.” 

Bellamy has to grudgingly accept the truth in that statement as he watches Octavia talk avidly with the Ocean tribe scout. It vexes him to no end that somebody else is learning to read his little sister like only he can. On the other hand, there is a strange kind of relief in the knowledge that somebody else is looking out for Octavia, making her their priority. So, while Bellamy definitely isn't happy that the other man in his little sister's life is a Grounder, he thinks he may just be starting to be okay with the idea that it's Lincoln. 

“Smart man,” he says gruffly. 

After a pause, Bellamy shifts down to sit more comfortably beside Lincoln, leaning against the large wooden log behind them. “So, tomorrow we ride out into battle with the Mountain Men?” 

Lincoln shakes his head. “Not if I can help it.” He doesn't take his eyes off Octavia. “When we get to the mountain, we'll scout the terrain and assess the situation, but I won't let Octavia risk her own life on the off chance that not all your friends are dead.” 

Bellamy nods, glad they are in agreement on the subject. “That's the kind of plan I can get behind.” 

Lincoln smirks. “I thought you might.” 

Bellamy smirks too and closes his eyes, relaxing into the growing darkness and the crackling of the flames in front of him. Tomorrow, they will head back out into the unknown and hopefully find out what exactly happened to the hundred in the aftermath of the battle with the Grounders. But for tonight, he is completely satisfied just knowing that his little sister is safe, unharmed and no more than a stone's throw away.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> There might be another companion piece to this one, but there might not. I haven't decided yet.


End file.
